Wicked Business

silence speaks louder than words. The second sentence references Tichy.”

Diesel got up and returned with a notepad.

“Peder Tichy was a Danish paleontologist, geologist, and engineer,” he read. “Born May 11, 1790. Died March 17, 1862. He grew up in Copenhagen and, after emigrating to the United States, became a professor of natural history at Harvard.”

“Interesting but not helpful.”

“He was a pretty influential guy. There are a bunch of landmarks around Boston named for him. There’s a neighborhood in Cambridge called Tichytown, a town in Northern Algeria named for him, and a dinosaur resembling Stegosaurus named Tichasaurus Armatus.”

“If the next clue is in Algeria, you’re on your own.”

“I thought we’d start with the landmarks. I have four, and they’re all in Cambridge.”

“Tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow. It’ll be easier in daylight. And I have a date tonight.”

This produced an instant sick feeling in my stomach. The guy who slept next to me naked last night had a date. And it wasn’t with me. Okay, so nothing actually happened between us, and he had every right to see other women, and it wasn’t like he was my boyfriend. So why did I feel like someone just stuck a fork in my heart?

He stared down at his empty plate. “Is there dessert?”

“No.”

“Jeez,” he said. “I was just asking.”

“Sorry. I guess that came out snappy. I have ice cream.”

“Ice cream would be great.”

I had vanilla, chocolate, and coffee ice cream. I knew chocolate was his favorite, so I brought him coffee. I wasn’t liking him a whole lot.

He finished his ice cream and checked his watch. “I have to run.” He pushed away from the table and kissed me on the top of my head. “I’m leaving Carl here.”

And he was gone.

“Scumbag!” I yelled at the closed door.

Carl turned the television up a notch.

“And you better watch your step,” I said to Carl, shaking my finger at him. “You’re on thin ice.”

I collected the dishes and huffed off to the kitchen. I was such a dope. I should never have brought him ice cream. Let him get his own dumb ice cream. And he wasn’t sleeping in my bed tonight, either. Let him sleep in her bed. Okay, that was unrealistic. I had no way of keeping him out of my bed. He just unlocked the door, dropped his boxers on the floor, and sneaked under the covers. Not to mention, I had no way of knowing if he was seeing other women. It wasn’t something we discussed. And it would be logical to assume a guy with that much testosterone would want to deposit it somewhere once in a while.

“Men!” I said, dumping the dishes into the dishwasher.

Cat 7143 was sitting on the counter with his half-tail curled around him.

“My life is confusing,” I said to Cat. “I can’t get a grip on it. And I’m ridiculously attracted to an idiot.”

Cat blinked and I took that as a suggestion to have a glass of wine. I cleaned the kitchen, had a second glass, and trudged upstairs. I shucked my clothes and dressed for bed in sweatpants, sweatshirt, and thick socks. I couldn’t keep him out of my bed, but I could insulate myself from him.

I was wide awake and sweating like a pig in my insulation when I heard Diesel come home. It was ten o’clock. Not an especially long date. He came into the dark room, kicked his shoes off, and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned in a couple minutes, and the rest of his clothes hit the floor. He slipped under the covers and went dead still for a couple beats.

“What the heck are you wearing?” he asked.

“Workout clothes. I was cold.”

“Well, you’re not cold now. You’re lying there in a pool of sweat.”

“I might be coming down with something.”

“Me, too. I’m coming down with a strong desire to relinquish my power and spend the rest of my days in the park, eating baloney sandwiches.”

“Did the date not go well?”

He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. “Hideous. She gave me a migraine.”

“Why are you dating someone who gives you a migraine?”

“I’m not dating her. She called and wanted to see me.”

I was getting a strange feeling about this. “Are we talking about anyone I know?”

“Deirdre Early. I told you I was going into town to see her.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I yelled it to you when I got off the phone with her. You were in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

I wanted to get out of bed, take all my clothes off, and do a happy dance, but I restrained myself.

“What did she want?” I asked Diesel.

“Mostly information. She’s definitely after the stone. I don’t know if she’s always been after it, or if she learned about it from Reedy. She’s one of us, but she’s not in the registry, and I can’t pinpoint her power. She brushed it off when I mentioned it.”

“And she gives you a migraine.”

“Yeah. I have heightened senses, and that includes a sensitivity to power. She’s got a lot of it, and it’s all negative.” He wrapped an arm around me. “You have a lot of power, too, but it’s positive. You feel like sunshine.”

“Wow.”

He was pressed against me, his lips brushing my ear. “What do I feel like?”

“Um, solid.”

“I’m more solid than usual,” he said. “I get turned on by women in workout clothes.”

“I could take my clothes off, if that would help,”

“Not a good idea right now,” Diesel said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was ten in the morning, and Glo had Ripple’s open on the counter. “I think I found a spell that will fix Hatchet. It’s a general undoing spell. It’s like one of those programs you run in your computer to get rid of a virus.”

“Are you sure his problem is a spell?” Clara asked. “Have you considered the possibility that he needs to change his diet?”

“I guess that’s something to think about,” Glo said. “The spell could have been a coincidence. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try my new spell out on him. I know he has some aggression issues, but he’s kind of interesting. I’ve been following his blogs and tweets. He knows a lot about old castles and poison and medieval torture.”

“Lovely,” Clara said. “What every woman looks for in a man.”

“He might be stopping in this morning for me to de-fart him. Just don’t let him touch anything edible, and keep him away from sharp objects,” Glo said.

A half hour later, Hatchet walked in. He was wearing a black-and-silver tunic, black tights, and beat-up Nike running shoes. He had his sword at his waist, and he looked like he was seven months pregnant.

Mrs. Weintraub was selecting a dozen cupcakes for a birthday party when Hatchet got in line behind her and farted.

“I’ll take six chocolate and six strawberry,” Mrs. Weintraub said to Glo, pretending not to have noticed Hatchet.

Brrrrrrrp.

Mrs. Weintraub sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw that the noise was coming from a medieval minion.